


Chai

by CrumblingAsh



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Drabble, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, Protective Bruce, Tony's PTSD, tumblr otp prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 23:50:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrumblingAsh/pseuds/CrumblingAsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From this prompt on Imagine Your OTP... on tumblr: "imagine your otp swimming together in a pool, Person A holding person B tightly in their arms as they float gently in the water"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chai

“This is stupid.”

 

“You said that.”

 

“I don’t need to do this.”

 

“You said that, too.”

 

“You’re not that kind of doctor. You said so. I remember. I remember these things. Exact words, even.”

 

“ _Tony_.”

 

The pool of Stark Tower was in-ground and indoors; heated, treated, and all around pleasant, maintaining only the slightest scent of chlorine that made the smallest separation between manmade and God-given. Bruce wasn’t generally fond of swimming, but even he could appreciate the calming sensation of just floating, letting the weights of life be held by something else for just a while. It was sort of cheating, a quick-fix in a situation when meditation wouldn’t be fast enough to keep his rage at bay. Just a fast reprieve, to take to have a quick moment of peace.

 

Unfortunately, this was not one of those times.

 

“Tony,” he tried again, keeping his voice soft as he stayed near the stairs, the clear blue water a blanket around him. The other man stood at the edge, hot-rod red Iron Man swim trunks (specially made, of course) and black tank top more in place than Bruce’s own khaki cutoffs, watching him dubiously. “It’s just right here, see? You can do this. It’s not that deep. I can you, you’ll be able to stand. It’ll be fine.” He lifted a hand from the pool, drops falling from his skin and back into the water with small, tinkling splatters that made Tony flinch and his own teeth clench. “I’m right here, and you can do this.”

 

“I don’t have to,” Tony snapped back, harsher than he normally allowed, but he also took a step forward, toes grazing the edge of the first step, and Bruce took it.

 

“No, you don’t,” he agreed, voice cautious. “But you can.” Pointedly, he stretched his arm a little further out. Watched as Tony took a full breath, brown eyes darkening, and with a sharp nod of his head more for himself , stepped into the pool in a rush of movement that had him falling forward.

 

Bruce didn’t give gravity the chance to submerge him. Before the water had even reached Tony’s chest, he had the billionaire caught in his arms, dragging him against his chest and further into the pool.

 

“Fuck,” Tony choked out, clutching at him tightly. “Fuck, _fuck_.”

 

Bruce ignored the way he trembled in his arms, the fervor with which he held to him, the words that drifted from expletives to bit-back keens that he tried to hide. He said nothing, just tightened his arms, allowing his partner’s body to float as his own feet stayed planted firmly on the tiled floor. Tony was right – he shouldn’t have to do this. He shouldn’t need to. Horrible things happened, and people tortured and killed people for power and hate and simply because they knew they could, and it shouldn’t happen. And he could see a Tony before this Tony – his Tony, the broken strong passionate man who just wanted the world to like him – a man not yet those things, still trapped in his own demons with no one there for him, bound up and tortured, head held under the water until he thought he would die, only to be brought back up at the last second, making death wished for and feared and water, ugly. Imagined the laughter of his captors, their jeers, their power, their thrill at his fear-

 

“Bruce,” Tony panted against his neck, still holding on.

 

“I’m here, Tony,” he promised, looking down, watching the flinching ticks across the man’s pale face, fearful brown eyes that studied him, too.

 

“Your eyes are green,” he muttered, shaking, pressing his head lightly into the crook of Bruce’s neck, careful to avoid any wetness, and breathed.

 

Bruce said nothing, shifting him nearer, and closed his eyes. Around them, the water lapped. 


End file.
